


Night Vale's Other Angel

by daftalchemist



Series: A Loosely Related Series of Events [5]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Body Horror, Fluff, M/M, Premature Ejaculation, Trauma Recovery, badass protective!cecil, shit that makes you go 'daww', sort of, the actual end to this series I fucking swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 04:42:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daftalchemist/pseuds/daftalchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lot has happened since Carlos' attack at the radio station, but his trauma keeps him unaware of any of it</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta thanks to sub3rduck. He knows who he is.
> 
> THIS IS THE ACTUAL FOR REAL END OF THIS SERIES THIS TIME OKAY??
> 
> THERE ARE NO MORE LOOSELY RELATED EVENTS AFTER THIS, FOR REAL.

It had occurred to Carlos that he didn't actually know what, exactly, Cecil was.

It was a sneaking curiosity that started to bloom within him that first night, after the...incident, when he went from falling asleep in Cecil's arms to waking up in Cecil's house, his car in the driveway. But mostly it was the blood that made him wonder, because it was everywhere; coating the lawn and the siding of the house. Angry looking markings that Carlos dared not stare at for too long, certain they'd only bring madness. He didn't know why Cecil had adorned his house in that way, but he knew it had never looked like that before.

He probably would have investigated it if he weren't so busy avoiding everything Night Vale. It was funny in an incredibly unfunny way how being attacked by one of the entities residing there was enough to undo all of the adjusting he'd done to living in the town. He often marveled that he'd ever started finding some kind of normalcy in the hellhole, and spoke about leaving on those rare occasions when Cecil would come around, despite the fact that Carlos was staying in _his_ house.

“But you _can't_!” he would wail, smoke drifting lazily from his eyes, just another reminder of where Carlos wished he didn't live.

“But you could come with me,” Carlos would insist, though he didn't always mean it.

“No, I mean...we _can't_. We just...we can't leave,” Cecil would reply, before looking incredibly remorseful and brushing Carlos' cheek with his hand, becoming more skilled by the day at hiding his disappointment when Carlos flinched. “We have to stay.”

It took a while, as embarrassing as it was, for Carlos to realize Cecil meant they physically could not leave Night Vale. And while part of him rebelled at the idea that the terrible place would be able to hold him, the other much more rational part of him didn't want to know what would happen if he tried to escape.

Each day was an exercise in trying not to relive painful memories, but everything in Night Vale reminded him of everything _else_ there, whether it be the Glow Cloud going into town for a PTA meeting, or the odd hooded figure that seemed to be hanging around Cecil's house a little more than usual. They were all the same, all connected, and they'd all let something terrible happen to him.

Maybe it was stupid for Carlos to ever think he was somehow immune to the horrors of Night Vale just because he was with Cecil. At first it had seemed like nothing ever touched the radio host, that he just went through every day as a shining beacon of safety, surviving things that no one reasonably should have. Of course, that wasn't the case. Not only had Cecil brought terrible things with him, he'd been powerless to stop them. No protection. No safety. But what did Carlos expect? He was just a radio host.

Then one day he came home bloodied and grinning ear to ear, holding a Big Rico's box and trying to pretend like his nose _wasn't_ dumping viscous purple blood over his chin and shirt, or that his ear wasn't half torn off, or that—dear _god—_ one of his...tentacles, _fuck_. Carlos hadn't seen them in a couple months. Cecil had made sure of it, he guessed, but there it was, hanging limp with deep gouges tearing it almost straight through, most likely unable to recede while so badly injured.

Carlos felt terrible for flinching away from Cecil when he was so terribly battered, especially when that earnest smile melted away to hurt. He wanted to show affection, really. Things hadn't been the same between them, but he still _cared_. But...that tentacle.

“Oh,” Cecil said, realizing it on his own as he turned away, obscuring the sight. “I'm sorry, Carlos. Don't look. I'll go take care of this.”

A few moments later Carlos heard a squealing shriek so ear-piercing that he reflexively hid under the table, shaking in absolute terror, as he watched Cecil walk back downstairs, no longer beaten. His ear was fine, the tentacle was gone, and he'd put on a new, bloodless shirt except...except the side of it where the tentacle had been had faint purple splotches on it and...with the squeal and all.

Oh god, he'd cut it off. He hoped it wasn't just laying in the tub or anything, _fuck_.

Cecil was offering Carlos his hand to help him to his feet, but Carlos found he didn't really want the contact right then because Cecil had just done something completely horrifying, and Carlos just really needed a break from that sort of thing.

“Wha...what happened?” Carlos asked, voice unsteady.

“Hmm?” Cecil responded as he placed the pizza box on the table and got out some plates. “Oh, it was nothing, really. Just a little argument at work.”

“At work.”

Cecil nodded as he served the pizza. “With, uh...with...those in charge.”

Wait, _what_?

“You...you argued with...” Carlos felt frantic pacing around the kitchen as he grabbed fistfuls of his hair. “With...oh _god_.”

“No, Carlos, darling,” Cecil said in between soft shushing sounds as he gently placed his hands on Carlos' cheeks, and Carlos managed to not flinch, much. “It's fine. Please don't worry. It won't happen again.”


	2. Chapter 2

Except it did happen again, one week later. Or at least Carlos assumed it did. It was hard to know the goings-on in Cecil's life when he never left Cecil's house, opting to stay huddled in a blanket reading textbooks Cecil had brought him from his lab.

The front door opened just a crack before Cecil's strained voice said, “Carlos, please don't look. I'm afraid I'm not quite calmed down just yet.”

Carlos probably should have listened. If he had then he wouldn't have jumped straight off the couch and broken Cecil's table lamp when he walked in the door all eyes and teeth, hunched over with his spine protruding oddly underneath his torn shirt, his tentacles wrapped around yet another Big Rico's box, and he had _claws_. Why did he have _claws_? And the blood; it wasn't his. It was grey and black and _sizzling_ on his skin.

“Cecil!” Carlos shouted, torn between running to him and running way the hell away, and settling on hovering around him in the middle of the room. “What _happened_?”

Cecil immediately covered his face with his hands, and it was almost adorable in that hellish Night Vale kind of way. “Oh, _Carlos_. I _told_ you not to look.”

“But.”

“But nothing,” Cecil replied as he pushed the pizza box into Carlos' hands. “You don't need to see me like this.”

But Carlos saw Cecil like that a lot more often. It seemed like once a week he came through the door beaten and bloodied, asking Carlos not to look at him, bringing a box of pizza as though it were a peace offering to convince Carlos to overlook his shocking appearance.

But Carlos never cared about the pizza, not once. He cared about _Cecil_ , and what was happening to him. It terrified him. He'd been spending so much time feeling terrible about himself, hiding away from the world, but the world was doing something horrible to Cecil, and Carlos couldn't let himself live in ignorance anymore.

Carlos' reemergence into the world did not go as expected.

He thought he'd go into town, hit the market, stock up on some of the food he'd been eating--when he felt like eating--at Cecil's house. And then, with his heart and mind steeled, he'd go to Night Vale Community Radio, and he'd wait in the parking lot, and surprise Cecil when he left for the evening.

But it was Carlos who ended up surprised as everyone in town avoided him, didn't speak to him, didn't even look at him, except for some fleeting sideways glances. It was weird, but he supposed he _had_ been in hiding for quite some time, and given where he lived people could have assumed any number of horrific things had happened to him. People disappeared all the time just to come back later, changed in ways that were often imperceptible until you got too close, spoke to them for too long. And if any of them should happen to know what had caused him becoming a recluse...well, they'd probably be assuming some pretty terrible things about him.

He tried not to let it bother him and continued on to the radio station. Cecil's show would be ending soon, and Carlos would be there to meet him, and he'd light up like he used to, and things could finally start getting back to normal.

The bright desert sky was giving way to an inky purple dusk, just as it always did at sundown in Night Vale, and the stars were just starting to find their way through the piercing darkness of the void when Carlos finally arrived at the station. He felt incredibly uncomfortable, staring at the building where so many months ago he'd been attacked, even as he marveled at how far he'd already come to just be able to _be_ there, leaning against Cecil's car and just...watching, waiting, so close to potential danger but still feeling far enough away from it for some form of safety to comfort him.

It was this place, this town. Things were terrible all the time. It crept into everyone's mind slowly, like vines forcing their way through cracked mortar, until they started thinking it was normal that they couldn't go to the dog park, or that the scouts were mandatory. It was normal that they had to eat at Big Rico's, and that the town would be rained on by small animals every time there was a PTA meeting.

But it wasn't normal, and it was secretly chipping away at their sanity the whole time until it eventually shattered, and then the town stitched it back together in the way it saw fit.

That's what had happened, wasn't it? There was no reason why Carlos should feel as...okay with the world as he did, as though despite what had happened and the months he'd spent nursing his hurts and his fears, there was no reason to believe it would happen again. That he could march into that station right now and be friendly and cordial and not interrupt the show, and there would be no issues, that he wouldn't even _see_...management again.

He didn't, of course. But he could have, and that's what really mattered, he supposed.

And now he had just one last thing to put right. After so much time spent avoiding Cecil, flinching away from his true form, and taking advantage of his kindness by staying in his house for so long, he was finally going to make it up to him. Cecil would be overjoyed, and Carlos would kiss him, which hadn't happened in so long. Nothing had, actually, and well...Carlos was ready, he hoped. He _wanted_ to be ready, and that had to count for something. Ready to be an active participant in their relationship again. To repay all of Cecil's kindness with love and affection, and really start getting things back to normal again, or at least whatever version of normal they'd be going with this time.

Then Cecil was finally walking through the door, and Carlos smiled at him, but Cecil did not return the smile. He froze for just a moment, gaping in the doorway before his face contorted into a horrific snarl, rage-filled eyes blinking open all over his face, his tentacles tearing out of him at break-neck speeds, so many more than Carlos had ever seen at once. His teeth, his claws, his angled ears, and the snarl itself...what the hell was happening?

“ _Carlos_ ,” he bellowed as he sprinted towards the car. “ _RUN!_ ”

Carlos blanked for just a moment before looking behind him, just in time to duck out of the way of a group of at _least_ half a dozen hooded figures that were reaching for him, buzzing loudly at him. But Carlos was too terrified to run, frozen in place by some menacing force, managing only to inch his way along the car, trying to stay out of their reach.

Fortunately, that got him just enough out of the way to avoid serious injury as Cecil crashed into the group a second later.


	3. Chapter 3

Carlos barely had a second to register what exactly had just happened before Cecil was roaring, _actually_ roaring, challenges at the circling group of hooded figures, buzzing loudly in defiance at him. And Cecil himself...he was so much different than Carlos had ever seen him. He was larger, angrier, so far from human with legs and arms rippling with thick cords of muscle, claws on his hands and more tearing through his shoes, his entire face just teeth and eyes, a jagged tail cracking like a whip against the ground, and all of those tentacles, so much longer and more menacing than they'd ever been. But Carlos couldn't even find it within himself to feel frightened by his appearance, because he was too busy being shocked; shocked that this was Cecil's _fully manifested_ true form and shocked that he could keep it so much under control while he was with Carlos. And in that strange sort of Night Vale way, Carlos realized the full extent of just how much Cecil cared about him.

But the hooded figures were pressing forward, surrounding Cecil, and Carlos realized he didn't actually know what they did to people, just that it was bad and no one came away unchanged, and he was about to shout at Cecil to stop, to run, but there was no need.

Cecil barreled through them, tentacles whipping through the air and cracking against the figures' heads, claws shredding every inch of cloth that covered them. The buzzing transformed into a madness-inducing shriek as gray and black liquid oozed out of them, making the parking lot boil while the hoods they'd been wearing burst into angry green flames and an unreasonable amount of smoke billowed up into the void.

Carlos could hardly believe what he was seeing. He'd always known Cecil was amazing and different, but he'd never realized just how inhuman he was, how powerful. He tore through the hooded figures like they were nothing, and they retreated before him, as though _he_ were the greater power in Night Vale.

But he was, wasn't he?

Carlos didn't know why he hadn't figured it out sooner. Every week he'd come home beaten and bloodied, but with no signs of tiring, and no visible injuries the next day. He'd just come downstairs with a smile and go about the night, trying to convince Carlos to eat some pizza, eat _anything_ , to relax, to rest.

Every week. He'd been fighting like this _every week_.

A terrible howl snapped Carlos' attention to the battle still raging before him, and he cried out in shock when he realized Cecil had gotten himself surrounded, overtaken by the remaining figures, and there was nothing Carlos could _do_ about it, no way for him to help, and...

And Cecil didn't _need_ help because a moment later he was thrashing free, stomping two figures underfoot as he squeezed the remaining two into nothingness with a dozen thrashing tentacles...and it was over.

Cecil's strange form melted away almost instantly as he returned to normal size looking _much_ worse for the wear, three tentacles injured and hanging, and he had a very noticeable limp as he walked over to Carlos and immediately began checking him for damage.

“You left the house,” he said, voice full of concern. “Why?”

“I-I just,” Carlos stuttered in response, “I wanted to surprise you. To see you.”

“But you were _safe_ in the house!” Cecil shouted, and Carlos' jaw dropped. Cecil had never yelled at him before. “The _blood sigils._ What did you think I _did_ that for?”

The blood on the lawn. He'd barely even registered it after the first day he noticed it, so lost in his own mind. “You were...protecting me.”

“Of _course_ I was, Carlos,” he yelled as he grabbed Carlos by the shoulders, smoke drifting from his eyes. “You talked about _leaving_ , you didn't use your bloodstone, you stopped eating at Rico's...you can't _do_ that! Do you realize how long they've been after you now? Didn't you see the figures around the house?”

He _had_ seen the figures, but he'd forgotten about them almost immediately, retreating even farther into his thoughts as he dealt with the trauma of the attack. He hadn't even wondered why they were so far from the dog park. How could he have been so stupid? He was a _scientist_! He was supposed to be intelligent and investigate things like that.

And Cecil. Perfect, wonderful Cecil had fought for him, _weekly_. And the pizza. He must've been bringing it around, just waiting for when Carlos would finally be ready to return to the way Night Vale worked, letting him have as much time as he needed to cope in his own way. And Carlos had actually talked about _leaving_ in front of him? He was a terrible boyfriend, regardless of the circumstances.

“I'm sorry, Cecil,” he said as he sniffled, tears welling up in his eyes. “I really fucked up.”

But Cecil just smiled and smoothed a hand over his hair, and Carlos realized how much he'd missed that. “It's fine. It can all still be fixed. We just have to get you back home for now, and I'll worry about the hooded figures.”

“You can do that?” Carlos asked. “Fight the...the figures.”

Cecil cheeks tinged violet, actually bashful about his fighting prowess. “Well, you're not _supposed_ to. It just makes them mad.”

Carlos couldn't help but chuckle softly as he let himself be helped up by his adorable monstrosity of a boyfriend, not flinching at all when Cecil's injured tentacles brushed against him.


	4. Chapter 4

“Do you have to cut them off?” Carlos asked as he wiped the hooded figures' blood off of Cecil's face and arms with a damp towel. He didn't really want Cecil to have to go through that again, but sitting on the bathroom floor as they were was probably the best time and place to slice off dead tentacles.

“I don't _have_ to,” he replied. “They'll heal on their own, just...you still weren't comfortable seeing them that first time, so... 

Carlos ran the towel over Cecil's lips, making sure to wipe away every speck of whatever acidic substance the figures had in them before giving Cecil the kiss he'd been intending to give him all night. Cecil whimpered against his mouth, almost vibrating from the effort to keep himself from crushing Carlos in a loving embrace and kissing the breath out of him, and if Carlos hadn't already been feeling impressed by the unbelievable kindness and concern Cecil had for him, he was gladly being crushed under the weight of it now.

“You're incredible,” Carlos breathed, wiping the towel along Cecil's neck.

“Don't you mean 'terrifying'?” he asked sheepishly, his cheeks growing a beautiful shade of purple.

Carlos smiled and kissed him again. “You're never terrifying to me.”

“ _Carlos_ ,” he whined against the scientist's lips. “I really want to respect your recovery, but you're making it hard to hold myself back.”

Carlos bit his lip nervously. “You don't have to hold back.”

“Are you sure?”

Carlos gently ran a hand along one of Cecil's injured tentacles, Cecil trembling almost imperceptibly from the touch, and he smiled. “I'm sure.”

Cecil immediately enveloped Carlos and pulled him onto his lap, and Carlos only momentarily panicked at his boyfriend's unabashed eagerness; his eyes opening instantly and his tongue forked as he practically melted into Carlos' mouth with a heady moan. Carlos balled his fists into the tattered shreds of Cecil's shirt and sweater vest, catching glimpses of tattoos swirling in a colorful haze of roses and weeping eyes, and so many of Cecil's tentacles were manifesting that the tiny bathroom was becoming incredibly cramped. But Carlos barely noticed, hardly cared, because Cecil was kissing him like his survival depended on it, and he'd never felt so loved, so wanted, or so safe.

Cecil broke the kiss with a gasp, allowing them both a moment to breath, as he nuzzled Carlos' chest. “I've missed you.”

Carlos carded a hand through Cecil's hair, and he purred in response. “I'm sorry.”

Cecil growled softly before pulling off Carlos' t-shirt licking a line up his sternum. “You never have to apologize for that.”

Carlos whimpered as Cecil gently laid him on his back, all of the tentacles that couldn't find room to touch some part of his skin climbing the walls, grasping at anything they touched, like a stormy sea of black and purple. And in the midst of all the chaos, a paler tentacle; it's black more like a dark gray, and it's purple underbelly more a light violet. The one Cecil had cut off to save him from discomfort had grown back, young and new.

“Oh god, _Cecil_ ,” whined Carlos as Cecil lavished attention on his nipples and the palms of Cecil's hands nibbled at his hips. He'd hardly been touched, but Carlos was achingly hard, dick straining against his pants as he instinctively bucked his hips against his boyfriend, and even that amount of friction felt wonderful, he was so sensitive. It'd been entirely too long since they'd done any of this, and he really had missed the closeness.

Carlos slipped his hands under Cecil's tattered shirt, running his hands up his stomach past all the wriggling appendages sprouting from either side of it to tease at his nipples, and Cecil gasped in pleasure before using one of those appendages to pin Carlos' hands over his head.

“I'm taking care of _you_ ,” he murmured in Carlos' ear, and Carlos couldn't help but whimper over how hot his breath felt against his neck.

“But you've _been_ taking care of me,” he replied, voice heavy with arousal.

Cecil chuckled as he nipped along Carlos' jaw, teeth sharper than they were a moment ago. “And I'm not about to stop now.”

Carlos shuddered under his touch, his mind spinning dizzily as Cecil panted hot against his neck, ran his tongue along his jaw and ear, unbuttoned his pants to slip one hand under the hem and palm at his cock, the tongue in his hand licking up his shaft through his briefs, and _god_ -

“ _Cecil_!” he pleaded, in an attempt to warn him, to stop him. But he was a moment too late, and his plaintive cry turned into one of pleasure as his orgasm came much more quickly than he had anticipated, leaving Cecil's hand to lick at the sticky patch in his pants.

Cecil was positively beaming, but Carlos could only groan as he hid his face against his arm. “Could you smother me with your tentacles and save me from my embarrassment? Because I'd rather not do it myself.”

Cecil giggled as he kissed every visible surface of Carlos' face, all but three of his tentacles slowly receding. “It's fine. We can always go again later.”

Carlos hummed in agreement as he wrapped his arms around Cecil's neck.

“Besides,” he said, becoming much more serious, “I think it's time you had some pizza.”

“Yeah,” Carlos agreed. “Pizza first, and then I'll take care of _you_.”


End file.
